You see when I did all of these things nobody was doing them, and I had no support so I didn’t know where I was, you see. And yet I had to do it, and I had a hard time, out of my love of figures, not to carry that along, because I like figures and I like people.

While in Japan sitting on the floor of a room and looking over an intimate garden with flowers blooming and dragonflies hovering in space, I sensed that this small world almost under foot, shall I say, had a validity all its own [...] which must be realized and appreciated from its own level in space.

Above and floating free above matted grasses, delicate thread-like structures rise and float, wind-blown as the summer passes. (Concerning Drift of summer, 1942)

Edge of August is trying to express the thing that lies between two conditions of nature, summer and fall. It’s trying to capture that transition and make it tangible. Make it sing. You might say that it’s bringing the intangible into the tangible. [...] The painting is written. I built up the wall of fog in minute, rather than structural stroke.

Turner is greater than the Impressionists [...] he dissolved everything into light.

I don’t care if it’s a picture eight feet high or eight inches high; to me it should have scale [...] if it doesn’t have that, then it’s a repetition of experiences that are the same.

Can the human be seen in the abstract? Saint Francis is a vertical. Humanism is not just figuration. The „return to the figure" does not make you a humanist. It may make you an anti-humanist.

An artist must find his expression closely linked to his individual experience or else follow in the old grooves resulting in lifeless forms.

[...] my whole idea of my painting is experiencing my life in paint.